you over and make you scream…”
Her eyes stayed as wide as saucers throughout all of it, every act and sensation obviously new to her. So he saw the final wave coming in those hazel depths, even before her body’s movements went from sinuous to hard jerks, deep shudders. Those wide eyes got wider, her mouth opening, seeking air.
“Now, baby. It’s okay. Let it happen.”
A cry of relief burst forth, but he saw the moment when the war started, inner defenses kicking in, a self-protection. She was trying to obey him, even as her body fought the climax like a drowning swimmer. He wouldn’t let it win.
He let the movements of her body push his fingers inside her, his thumb firmly massaging the outside. At the same time, he pressed his face to the side of hers, his lips moving down to her collar bone, her throat, below his grip. He nipped her, then a stronger bite. With it, he demanded all her attention, inside and out, past and present, be on him, on what he was requiring of her. No one else.
She lost the battle. Or won it, from his fiercely satisfied perspective. A cry became a wail, and her body lifted and fell against his grip, a wild, strong, magnificent creature. Her hair rippled over his knuckles, cascading over her back, head tipped back against his shoulder.
At the height of it, the orgasm seemed to pull from something far deeper than the body. A good orgasm did, especially for women. Her eyes wheeled around as if she was lost at sea. He pressed his hand firmly against her cunt, a sealing in of that feeling, and she rode it, her hips pressing forward, pushing her sex into his touch, body still bucking.
She almost toppled the stool once or twice, but he was firmly planted in his chair now, his core drawn tight to hold her steady, even as he kept his hand moving on her wet, spasming sex.
Only when she seemed to have experienced all the aftershocks she could did he shift that hand. He banded his arm over her chest, moved the other hand from her throat to overlap it. He held her close, cocooned against him as she slowly came back to earth.
He’d never wanted to be inside a woman more, with full feeling in his cock and every inch of the body attached to it. But this was enough for now. More than enough.
“Rory,” she whispered. Her voice was raspy. Hoarse. “Rory.”
“Ssh. You’re okay. I’ve got you.” He hummed to her, one of the old country tunes from earlier in the evening, and pressed a kiss against her hair.
Her fingers were hooked over his forearms, nails digging in. She’d touched down like a feather, but now that slight sway to her body was becoming a more insistent rock against his hold. “Rory. I can’t let go…I’m falling…”
Unease rippled through him, but he spoke soothingly. This was the flipside of the involuntary, pleasurable reaction she’d just experienced. A reaction she had no way to handle, no context, just his word. He had to make sure she could count on it, lean on it.
“You don’t have to let go,” he told her. “And I’m not letting go of you. Just hang on.”
“Why…why…why…” He thought she was trying to ask him a question, the way she was struggling with the single word, but a blink later, there was no spare energy to figure it out.
Everything changed.
Yes, an orgasm could be a deeper-than-the-body experience, opening rooms in the heart that had been closed up for too long. But instead of turning the knob and pushing inward, her release had ripped them off the hinges, busting the frame.
Words disappeared, replaced by a raw, wailing cry. He was holding a wounded wild animal, not a woman. But she’d taken him at his word. She wasn’t fighting to get away. She held onto as much of him as she could, with raking nails, pummeling fists, biting teeth.
His upper body was far stronger than hers, but she had the advantage of greater mobility. One of her thrashings tipped her over his arm, overbalancing him and the chair. Which, damn it all, broke his hold. She hit the floor on one knee as he grabbed onto her nearby bed, trying to catch himself. He missed, toppling out of the seat and onto the floor. The braked chair had tipped but it found the dresser, which sent it back to all wheels.
He’d been afraid he’d land